Inaudible
by RaisedOnRadio
Summary: Maybe the voices aren't all in your head. [one shot]


Inaudible

1502 Words / Written on 12-29-16

Originally published on AO3 for the Ghost Hunt Challenge 1: Parapsychology. The prompt was:

Raudive Voices: Intelligible voices recorded on magnetic tape under conditions of silence or white noise which are heard only when the tape is played. A phenomenon discovered by Konstantin Raudive. See also. instrumental transcommunication, pareidolia.

Author Note:

I was able to get my hands on a copy of Break-Through by Konstantin Raudive, which was pretty cool. (Thank you Coriana and your interesting book collection!) The Wiki page didn't offer nearly enough information (though the book probably gave me too much!) The last thing I wanted was to have the story become an info dump, so I suggest you explore for yourself if you want to know more about EVP, or Electronic Voice Phenomenon.

...

* * *

…

Fifty-four-year-old Oliver Davis leveled a stare at the sales rep in the electronics store. The young man was busy explaining to him how the digital recorder that Oliver wanted was out of stock, but this one was almost the same, sans a few features. Oliver wasn't listening. Clearly, the young man - the very young man - had assumed that Oliver was in the generation age gap of people who didn't understand electronics. Oliver was much too old to be referring to people as pumpkins, but for heaven's sake, that was what this young man was.

"This is the recorder I want," Oliver said, shaking the paper he had printed off the internet. Maybe if he had pulled the information up on one of those smartphones the pumpkin would actually pay attention to what he was saying.

"We don't have that one," the pumpkin said, his patient facade showing some cracks. "I can order it for you."

"Order it online?"

"Yes."

"Well that's useless," Oliver stated. "I can do that from home, and probably find it cheaper. I just wanted it now."

"I'm sorry I couldn't have been more help," the pumpkin finally said.

Oliver nodded once and left the store.

...

After carrying the ninth cardboard box out of the storage room to his home office, Oliver was starting to think this was going to take longer than he thought.

His oldest son stuck his head into the room, and his eyes widened at the boxes.

"Geez," he said. "Dad, I would have carried those for you."

"I know," Oliver said, opening the first box. "But I'm not that old Noboru."

"Did you get the recorder you wanted?"

"No."

Noboru waited for an explanation, and didn't get one. He sighed loudly. "Do I have to worry about walking into that store too?"

"I didn't cause any havoc, if that's what you're asking."

Noboru watched as his father started taking out piles of cassette tapes, carefully labeled with their date and contents. He knew some of the boxes contained tapes that would require a reel-to-reel player to listen to them. He wondered if they even had one. Contrary to popular belief, his father had embraced the digital age the moment he could, and with the stack of boxes as evidence, it wasn't hard to understand why. The only issue was that sometimes, more than he wanted to admit, digital electronics malfunctioned around Oliver. His favorite digital recorder had died yesterday, losing all of the case's data. Oliver was pissed that he had not backed it up that morning, and the poor store clerk had suffered for it.

"You know," Noboru started, "We could just back these all up, you don't have to listen to all of them first-"

"That would be a waste of time," Oliver said, putting a cassette into the small portable player. "Why back them all up if I'll only need half of them?"

Noboru felt the waste of time was listening to all of them, but he threw up his hands in mock defeat. "Fine, fine. Let me know if you need anything."

No answer, but Noboru hadn't expected any.

...

Box four was halfway done. Oliver was pleased that the keep and destroy piles were about fifty-fifty.

He checked the date of the next cassette, making an entry in his notebook before pressing play. His voice came through the small speakers in a steady, almost monotonous tone. It described some research notes for his next book at the time, which would have been shortly after he had returned to Japan after Gene's funeral.

That was a long time ago.

He nodded in time with the rhythm of his voice, noting to himself words and concepts he did end up changing in that book. There would be no need to keep this cassette.

His voice stopped, and white noise filled the void. Oliver considered just ejecting the tape and throwing it in his destroy pile, but decided to wait for the next section of recording instead, in the case he changed topics without noting it on the label.

The soft rushing sound of the empty tape reminded him of the short period Eugene had decided he wanted to investigate EVP. Experiments in electronic voice phenomenon had been becoming popular, especially in group settings. When Eugene was invited to one such party – for that was what they were, no one could tell Oliver differently – Eugene leapt at the chance for some 'research' – and dragged his twin with him.

The stranger's living room had been large, but not large enough, in fourteen-year-old Oliver's opinion, for the eighteen people in it. In the middle there had been a small table with an array of items: a reel-to-reel tape recorder, a microphone and stand, and a portable radio. Oliver vividly remembered the uncomfortable chair he had been given. It looked like an old kitchen chair, and he had assumed it would be more comfortable than the metal folding chair Eugene was in. He was wrong.

 _This sounds suspiciously like using an ouija board,_ he had told his brother through their link.

 _Well, it's not. This is science._

 _The scientific journals are mostly calling electronic voice phenomenon a hoax._

 _Did you notice you had to add the modifier 'mostly'?_

 _The ones who do believe in it are not credible._

 _Listen to yourself. Most people say our entire science is not credible._

The host, a man probably in his early twenties, stepped next to the table and signaled for everyone to settle down. He turned on the radio and twisted the knobs, purposefully moving past stations that were coming in clear.

When the gentle rushing sound of an empty channel had been heard, the man started the tape recorder and picked up the microphone. He said into it, "Hello? Hello, this is Henry Leads with a group of seventeen friends. We should be very happy to know that the unseen friends are here and are manifesting through the tape."

He set the microphone down next to the radio, and sat down quietly in an empty chair. Despite the chattering going on beforehand, Oliver had been surprised that the group proved they were capable of being quiet. They all sat silently, the only sound the white noise from the radio, which became almost unnoticeable as time went on.

After ten minutes went by, Henry reached over and stopped the recording, rewound the tape, and pressed play.

 _Hello? Hello, this is Henry Leads with a group of seventeen friends. We should be very happy to know that the unseen friends are here and are manifesting through the tape._

The static following his recorded words was gentle and quiet, giving the illusion there was nothing there at all.

Six minutes in, people were starting to get antsy. The woman next to Oliver murmured that at the last recording she was at, the leader had the audience record questions for the spirits. "That might have gotten more response," she told Oliver. He had nodded absently. Oliver was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt. But he certainly wasn't impressed. He was constructing his report in his head, starting with 'EVP seems to be just another parlor game fad'...

A female voice said, _"D - you - ick - ilk?"_

Henry stopped the tape and backed it up to the spot, but the words were no clearer than the first time. The audience had tittered nervously. Henry called for silence and finished playing through the rest of the tape. It ended up being a useless endeavor, and people started talking again about the only words that were heard the moment the tape stopped.

The boy on Eugene's opposite side leaned over. "What did you hear?"

The girl behind him answered, "Something along the lines of, 'Don't lick the silk.'"

"That doesn't make any sense," Oliver said. He observed the slight scowl on Henry's face. Clearly this wasn't the type of communication he was looking for.

The girl narrowed her eyes. "So I take it you're not convinced?"

"Sounds like a case of auditory pareidolia," Oliver said.

"Did the voice say, 'Did you pick up the milk'?" Eugene asked.

…

"Sleeping on the job?"

Oliver blinked. The tape was still running, so not too much time had passed. Judging by the continuing white noise, he must have not recorded again on the tape. He looked up at his wife's smiling face.

"Lost in a memory," Oliver said.

"You, becoming sentimental?" Mai said, her smile widening. "Then you really are getting old. Dinner's done if you are hungry."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Did you cook?"

"No. Your youngest son and his wife did. So there." She leaned down and kissed him gently.

A male voice asked amidst the white noise, _"Did you pick up the milk?"_

Mai pulled away and asked, "Did you hear that?"

Oliver looked at the tape recorder for a moment.

"No, I didn't hear anything," he said as he reached over and stopped the tape.


End file.
